


A Heart That Beats

by ImpishTubist



Series: Amal [1]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Kidfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 10:53:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2022441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpishTubist/pseuds/ImpishTubist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the Kazon takeover of <i>Voyager</i>, Chakotay finds himself a reluctant parent to the child Seska left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Heart That Beats

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet is an AU that assumes that Seska really was pregnant with Chakotay’s child, and it serves as a coda to “Basics.” [Amal](http://babynamesworld.parentsconnect.com/meaning_of_Amal.html) is the name Chakotay chose for himself in the episode “Workforce.” Some of the dialogue in this fic is taken directly from "Basics."

She was beautiful, even in death.

Chakotay smoothed Seska’s hair away from her face, untangling some of the auburn strands and rearranging them so they lay about her shoulders. The next biobed over, Tuvok was saying a final goodbye to Lon Suder.

“May your death bring you the peace you never found in life.”

Chakotay said nothing to Seska. He pulled up the gray sheet so that it covered her face, and for a moment he could pretend that the woman he knew--the fierce Bajoran he had once loved--was the one lying on the biobed, rather than this imposter.

 _I wish you had been real_.

But Seska had been a lie, a Cardassian agent disguised as a Bajoran in order to infiltrate the Maquis. Her betrayal almost a year ago, coming on the heels of Tuvok’s, had been bad enough. Chakotay still could hardly believe that the two outsiders had infiltrated his cell, and there wasn’t a day that went by where he didn’t berate himself for his gross lapses in judgment.

But while that betrayal had been devastating, her final deception--the one where she had stolen Chakotay’s DNA and used it to impregnate herself--was a heartache that had been plaguing him for months.

And now the child that resulted from that deception was here on _Voyager_ , this infant Chakotay had no part in making and no knowledge of until a few months ago. He turned away from Seska’s body and went over to the bassinet that the Doctor had set up in the middle of the room. The hologram was running some final scans on Seska’s baby, and he stepped aside when Chakotay approached.

_He is your son, Chakotay._

He only ever saw his father in his dreams. In Chakotay’s waking moments, the features of his father’s face were smudged and imperfect in his memory, and he had long ago lost the ability to recall perfectly his father’s voice.

Except right now, when his words were echoing, unbidden, in Chakotay’s ears.

_He is your son, Chakotay._

“You can hold him, if you like,” the Doctor said, arching an eyebrow at Chakotay.

He realized then he must look a fool, standing stock-still over the bassinet, staring at its contents as though they might explode at any moment. He couldn’t compel himself to speak, let alone move closer, and settled for just shaking his head.

The Doctor rolled his eyes and went back to his readings. “Suit yourself. Nonetheless, I’m happy to report that he weighs four-point-zero-eight kilograms, he’s approximately fifty-two centimeters in length, and he has a set of lungs on him that could give a Klingon a run for his money. Congratulations, Commander. You’re a father.”

_To a child I never wanted._

Except that wasn’t true, not entirely. He had always wanted children, and had largely given up on the notion of having them when he joined the Maquis. He couldn’t raise a child in an environment like that, and whatever future he had imagined for himself was buried in the back of his mind the day he left Starfleet. Maquis didn’t have futures; they could only afford to live in the present, for that was all that was assured them.

Until Seska, that is. In the brief moments of fantasy he allowed himself during their time together, Chakotay had privately entertained the notion of a child. A child with her; a child who would have had the strength of his mother and the passion of his father.

The Seska he knew turned out to be a lie, but the child... oh, the child was now very much real.

Yet this wasn’t the future Chakotay had envisioned, and this was not the child he had wished for. What was he to do with a child who had been conceived without his knowledge, using genetic material Seska had stolen from him?

“He has two arms and two legs,” Chakotay murmured to himself, “and a heart that beats.”

“What was that?” the Doctor asked.

Chakotay shook his father’s words from his ears.

“Nothing,” he said. “How is he?”

“Shaken, but largely unharmed,” the Doctor said briskly. “He suffered a bump to the head in the final barrage, but it’s been taken care of. He’s right as rain, Commander.”

The Doctor’s cheer grated on Chakotay’s already-brittle nerves. He was mourning a woman who had never existed, burying one he barely knew, and had acquired a child that was his--that was hers--and yet not one that he truly wanted.

_He is your son, Chakotay._

He wasn’t _their_ son. He would never be _theirs_.

But he would always be Chakotay’s.

Chakotay swallowed past a dry throat and reached out a finger, tracing the gentle indentation in the middle of the baby’s forehead--at the moment, the only visible sign of his Cardassian heritage. The Doctor set aside his equipment, and Chakotay looked up.

“As far as I can tell, there have been no documented cases of Cardassians successfully mating with humans,” he said carefully, and Chakotay caught his meaning.

“You don’t know what to expect as he grows up.” He returned his gaze to the baby’s face and added, softly, “That’s all right. Neither do I.”

“Nonetheless, he appears to be perfectly healthy at the moment.”

Chakotay ran the back of his finger down the baby’s cheek. The infant stared at him out of too-familiar eyes--his mother’s--and then gave a soft squeak.

“About all they know how to do at this age is make odd noises,” the Doctor said, looking pleased. “He’ll be smiling in another couple of weeks, though, and rolling onto his stomach in the next month or so. I’ll have some literature sent to your quarters, so you know what milestones to be looking for.”

“How old is he?” Chakotay asked, realizing that he didn’t know.

“I’d estimate about a month. No more than six weeks.”

The baby had been swaddled in a blue Starfleet-issue blanket that was wrapped so securely around him that only his face was visible. He had started to nod off, but roused when Chakotay slid both hands under his body and finally lifted him out of the bassinet.

Chakotay’s hands were broad to begin with, but they appeared monstrous in comparison to the baby. He could easily cup the infant’s head in the palm of one hand with room to spare--he was _unimaginably_ tiny. He also apparently didn’t like being held like that, for he almost immediately began to twist and fuss.

“Hush,” Chakotay said softly, and shifted the baby so that his head was resting in the crook of Chakotay’s elbow. “How’s that? Better?”

The baby quieted at once. One arm had fallen free of his blankets, and it waved about in the air before latching onto Chakotay’s shirt.

“What will you call him?”

“Hm?” Chakotay looked up. He had nearly forgotten that the Doctor was there. “Oh. I hadn’t thought about it.”

“Let me know as soon as you come up with something. I’ll need to enter it into the ship’s database.”

Chakotay nodded absently. He put the baby back down in the bassinet and watched him thoughtfully. He looked like a - well, he didn’t look like much of anything, to be honest. _Baby_ was all that came to mind when Chakotay looked at him, rather than a specific name. Along with _work -_ hard work.

But also _hope_.

Tuvok had left Sickbay by this point, and the Doctor went to transfer Lon Suder’s body back to the morgue. They would bury him in the morning, and memorialize the other two officers who had been lost down on the planet below.

The doors slid open again, and Chakotay turned around to see Tom enter the room. His hair was a mess, golden curls standing on end and streaked with dust. His face was covered in grime and there was a cut above his left eyebrow, but he was in one piece, which was more than Chakotay had dared hoped for. Hours ago - had it only been hours? - he was mourning not only Tom’s apparent death in a destroyed shuttlecraft, but also the fact that he wouldn’t be able to properly bury his lover’s body.

“Tom,” he whispered, and he crossed the room in three quick strides to pull Tom into a hug. They clung to each other for several long seconds, Chakotay pressing his face into Tom’s shoulder while Tom fisted his hands into the back of Chakotay’s uniform top, until better sense prevailed and they broke apart. The Doctor was nowhere to be seen, so he was probably tending to Lon Suder’s body still and hadn’t seen the display of affection. No one else knew of their clandestine liaisons, and it was better to keep it that way for now.

“I got the story from the captain,” Tom said quietly. “She told me what happened down there. Hogan and Rivers deserved better than that.”

Chakotay couldn’t tell if it was an accusation or not, but the former was well-deserved. In the course of two days he had lost the ship to the Kazon, got the entire crew stranded on a desolate planet, and had caused the deaths of two crewmembers. Three, if he counted Suder’s sacrifice.

All for a child he had never laid eyes on before yesterday.

Tom went over to the bassinet, and Chakotay followed him. The baby was sleeping once more. Tom reached out a finger and traced the indentation in his forehead, and he stirred but didn’t wake.

“He’s beautiful,” Tom whispered. The look on his face was almost reverent, and Chakotay was taken aback. He’d never thought of Tom as someone who enjoyed interacting with children. Then again, Tom had the personality for it. If anyone on _Voyager_ was fit to parent, it was Tom. Certainly not him, no matter how much he wanted children.

“Yeah, he looks a lot like Seska,” Chakotay said after a moment.

Tom shook his head. “No. He looks just like you.”

Before Chakotay could even think of a response to that, Tom went on. “What are you going to call him?”

“I don’t know,” Chakotay said. “I didn’t think…”

He trailed off. He hadn’t thought that he would actually see this child again in the flesh, was what he meant to say. The moment they had surrendered the ship, the moment one of the Kazon soldiers had forced him to his knees with the rest of the bridge crew, he was certain that it was all over. That he was never going to see this baby again, and that his flesh and blood would be raised by the woman who had betrayed him so many times. Who had such utter contempt for humans, and for the Federation.

And yet, against all odds, he was now back on their ship and his child was sleeping peacefully before his eyes, and when the Doctor gave him the go-ahead, he was going to be taking the baby home. To keep and to care for and to raise. And someday, hopefully, to love.

He didn’t know the first thing about being a father, and he wasn’t sure if he even loved this child. If he was capable of loving something that had been born of such deception.

 _A child knows nothing of deception_.

His father’s words again, more insistent than before. Tom was looking at him strangely, and Chakotay shook his head.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he said quietly.

“You just charged into the middle of Kazon territory for a child you’d never met before,” Tom said. “I’d say that’s a good start.”

And while he and Tom didn’t have anything close to what could be called a relationship, Chakotay suddenly felt compelled to ask, “Are you okay with all this?” Tom shared his bed at least twice a week; it seemed only polite.

Tom shrugged, but Chakotay thought that his smile seemed sad. “It’s not my call.”

And it wasn’t, not really, but Chakotay couldn’t do this without consulting Tom - without Tom’s approval - and he didn’t know why. “Tom -”

“Look, let me put it this way,” Tom interrupted. “I don’t want anything to do with a man who doesn’t put his own child first. All right?”

Chakotay’s jaw clicked shut. He swallowed hard, and then nodded. He looked down at the baby again, sleeping peacefully with one of his hands now wrapped around Tom’s finger. Hope and hard work. Those were the only things that were going to get him through this.

That, and perhaps also the man who had walked into his life four years ago and never quite managed to leave.

“Amal,” Chakotay said finally. “I want to call him Amal.”

Tom considered this for a moment.

“Amal,” he repeated, trying the name out on his tongue. He brushed his thumb across the back of the baby’s hand. “Welcome to _Voyager_ , little one.”


End file.
